by Laura Briggs
"You heard Lady Amanda," said Gemma, scoffing. "He's twentieth in line, or something like that."
"But you never know," said Pippa. "What if someone abdicates?"
I tried not to laugh, but it was terribly hard. Especially when I caught Lady Amanda's eye.
"Helen looks well," said Lady Amanda. "I think she's rather relieved to have Josephine happy. That's what she really needed all along, if she hadn't been too silly to notice."
She shifted Edwin to a more comfortable position in his baby bunting carrier. She had stayed away until the reception, since Edwin tended to fuss in solemn halls, and tended to howl when babysat by anybody who didn't belong at Cliffs House. In his 'posh baby suit' he looked quite smart today — although Lady Amanda had managed to tame his hair in the beginning, it had returned to its natural disarray, thanks to his tiny fingers.
"Ga wa," he said to me. "Adj-ji-woo." He pointed quite vigorously in the direction of Dinah's cake. Lady Amanda declined to notice, however — and gave the rest of us sharp looks to do the same.
Mrs. Lewison's smile did look happy as she stood with Josephine and Kristofer, talking to the dowager. It wasn't the champagne melting away her nerves, I told myself, even with Lady Astoria being her usual self. Her cane narrowly missed a tray of champagne flutes in the hands of one of Ms. Krensky's staff as she gestured towards the hedges — I was beginning to wonder if the dowager really was doing it on purpose.
"Doesn't Josephine look like a model, though?" said Gemma. "More so than that awful Petal Price-Parker. I never thought she was a proper choice for Donald, anyway." She referred to the football star whose wedding had been my first one to plan — and whose bride had been Matt's first great heartache in his youth. Because of that, I had my own reasons for not thinking Petal Borroway was one of the runway's most beautiful faces, although I did my best to avoid saying it.
"I think Josephine's less interested in clothes than in books," I pointed out. "You know, Kristofer found her an office where she can set up her charitable program of literacy and arts for underprivileged children."
"Isn't that lovely?" breathed Gemma.
"So romantic," said Pippa. "Like I said, it's practically a fairytale." She sighed again.
Josephine and Kristofer didn't ride away on his electric blue motorcycle, but in a sleek luxury car that was taking them to a private flight. Whether their final destination would remain the planned one or become something spontaneous after they landed ... well, that was their adventure to keep secret, not one for the rest of us to know. But remembering the carefree look on Josephine's face, and the smile on Kristofer's, as they drove away together the afternoon of their 'escape,' I hoped they had something special and spontaneous ahead of them now.
Ms. Krensky seemed satisfied despite all her final orders and the sniff of uncertainty regarding one of the urns of flowers. Throughout the reception, she had been an imposing figure with a cool smile, one that wasn't shaken by even the most intimidating, important guests on the roster — people whose parties she had probably planned, I imagined. She did manage to get a portrait of herself with the bride, Helen, and Anneka. There was probably a whole wall of them in a secret room in her office, a 'who's who' of European society.
Now Ms. Krensky had marched away with her team, whose uniforms did remind me a little of soldiers. Helen Lewison had left for London, Anneka and Gustaf returned to their private cottage, and there were no more security guards hiding behind tapestries, or in rooms that I accidentally bungled into while searching for others. We helped clear away the cake and appetizers, the empty champagne glasses and the flowers, until the garden and hall of Azure Castle was its simple, beautiful self once more.
I stood admiring it for a moment. Matt had loved its clean lines, the green square between limestone walls that seemed like a gemstone in a frame, even though his heart generally belonged to the sprawling cottage gardens that were beautifully-planned chaos to my eye. In his place, I took one last stroll through the grounds, gazing up at the stately castle which waited so patiently above the sea for visitors to find their way up the long and winding wooded path.
Marjorie told me that she and Samuel were planning to spend part of the autumn here, and open the castle to public tours a few days a week. It sounded lovely, but Matt and I wouldn't be here, of course. Our return visit would have to wait a little longer.
"Home again," sighed Lady Amanda, setting the baby bag on the kitchen floor at Cliffs House. "I'm quite glad to say that aloud." She sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, setting Edwin in a high chair first.
"Pour me a cuppa, Gemma," said Pippa. "I'm done in." She propped her chin on her fists. "I told Gavin I won't be home for at least another day. I'm too worn out from this job to take the train home."
"That's what comes of looking after babies all day," said Gemma, loftily. "You're losing all those muscles from cleaning the manor's high windows."
"You're just jealous," sniffed Pippa. "Though I do miss it a bit."
Michael had fixed us tea as soon as we returned, and we took it downstairs rather than haul the tray to Lady Amanda's parlor. Lord William joined us, having been lonely for company — and for his wife and son especially — these past couple of weeks. And when Geoff entered, Pippa and Dinah went positively wild, although it had only been a few days since the farewell party.
"I feel quite popular," said Geoff, as they hugged him. "I haven't been so eagerly greeted in all my past. Not even by my own mother, I daresay."
"Well, I didn't have time for a proper greeting at the party," said Dinah, by way of excuse. "And it's only right, given how long we toiled together in the past, you and I." She made herself busy pouring cups of tea in Gemma's stead — though I noticed she had hugged Lord William just as hard when he arrived at the kitchen beforehand.
"You missed me, didn't you?" Pippa said to Geoff, after she was done embracing him.
"Of course I did," he said. "It hasn't been the same without you, I assure you."
"Go on with you now," said Dinah to her. "Haven't you had quite enough of asking everyone how deeply they've mourned your absence?"
"I only want to know," said Pippa. "What's wrong with that? We know they missed you well enough. Not that I'm meaning to offend, Mr. — er —" she said to Michael, who was leaning against the counter near the stove as Dinah attacked his mixing bowls, spatula, and flour and sugar canisters with renewed vigor.
"Michael," supplied Kitty, who was helping Edwin count the plastic keys on his toy ring as Lord William held him. "No last name. He doesn't like it."
Pippa took one look at Michael's rather fierce exterior — including the tattoo exposed beneath his white shirt's short sleeve — and said no more.
"It's like old times, isn't it?" said Dinah, as she placed a platter of fresh-baked biscuits on the table for us, her special marmalade ones. Michael sneaked one and took a bite, he and Dinah exchanging glances — approval was in his eyes, so I was satisfied.
"Indeed it is," said Lord William. "It's quite good to have everyone back. It's been far too empty around here, I assure you — and been quite different this past year as it is." He took two of Dinah's biscuits; I knew that Lord William hadn't quite resigned himself to Michael's recipes yet.
"We're not all here, though," pointed out Pippa. "Ross isn't here."
"Who?" Michael spoke for the first time, sounding puzzled. I hid my smile for this old joke.
"She means Matt," I said. "I could call him, I suppose." He was probably at Rosemoor, potting his beloved plants for transport elsewhere — unless he was already driving them to his horticulturist friend for safekeeping.
"Oh, do," said Lady Amanda. "We'll all have dinner, perhaps. There must be something about useful in making a bit of stew — or a shepherd's pie." Michael grunted his agreement, as he took a second biscuit for his tea.
"Where is Edwin's toy lorry?" Lady Amanda asked, while rummaging through the baby bag for extra nappies.
"It's in the playhouse," said
Lord William. "I had a few of his things up there to see if there was room for playing." He looked a bit sheepish with this confession, since more than one of us had seen Lord William enjoying crashing the toy lorry and the fire truck together as much as his infant son did.
"Fetch it, will you Kitty?" asked Lady Amanda. "And Julianne, do call Matthew and see if he'll come by."
I pressed the button on my mobile phone, waiting for Matt's answer. I knew he wouldn't want to miss this reunion, after so many memorable times in this kitchen with Cliffs House's staff. The first time we worked side by side was here ... the second time Matt ever teased me was in this very room ... and right now it was filled with the people who were part of those moments, and as bright and cozy as always.
***
Kitty:
The playhouse wasn't one of those plastic snap-together kits, but part of the set for Theseus's castle from the theatre. It was too big for Gerard to store, and he didn't have the heart to tear it apart, so Lord William had adopted part of the false front for a little play platform for Edwin — one with plenty of safety rails to hold him on the main platform, of course.
It was a bit pointless for a child of Edwin's age, but Lord William was thinking ahead — and couldn't build too many things that an infant could play with, either.
It was beginning to sprinkle a bit as I crossed the garden and climbed the little steps to retrieve the truck, which lay scattered beside a few plastic outdoor toys. I heard a voice call my name, so I rose and looked out the castle window, the one painted with the false balcony and flower box as before. There was Nathan, standing in the garden on the other side.
"What?" I said. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk to him. Since leaving the goodbye party, I hadn't seen him again, and it had meant we didn't have to go on with that awful conversation from before. One full of lots of unpleasant things about love and leaving.
"I don't want to go to London," he said. It was raining in earnest now, pattering a little against his jacket, and against the roof of the playhouse.
"Good for you," I answered. My heart skipped a beat, though, and I didn't feel as casual as I sounded.
"I don't want to go back to the U.S. and have the big career. I want to be with you, and if that means going to Paris, I'll go. I'll go anywhere with you, because I love you."
His tone was determined, almost fierce. "Well?" he said. "What do you say to that? I love you, Kitty. I said it. I want to marry you, even. That's how much I feel for you."
"I love you," I said. I didn't stop to think about it. It came out on its own, no stopping it.
I had never said those words to anyone. The earth might be shaking down to its core at this moment. Sending big showers of lava up, and cracking open the earth because something this impossible actually happened.
Nathan stepped closer. "Then let me come with you," he said. "Because if you don't, I'll follow you there. I'll follow you anywhere, Kitty. I swear it."
It might have left me a bit speechless, except I didn't have a clue what he was talking about.
"I'm not going to Paris," I said, bluntly.
Nathan blinked. "You're not?" he said.
"No. Who told you that?"
"It was going around the village. It was a huge career opportunity, they said."
"The dowager?" I said. "I never even thought of it. It was a proper posh offer, I suppose, but I wasn't interested, not even for Paris."
"Oh." Nathan looked slightly sheepish. It had taken the wind from his sails, I suppose, given there was no place to follow me. And if I wasn't shaking a bit, I might have laughed at this situation.
"I was going to take you to Paris," he said. "Before I thought you were going there for good. Two tickets ... that was the other part of your gift." He blinked hard in the rain. "The idea feels a little dumb now."
"It's not," I said. I'd never had anyone take me anywhere, much less some place that exciting. He must have been thinking about how hard I'd been studying the language; or maybe just thinking it was romantic.
We both stood there in the rain for a second. Nathan was the first to say something. "Look, will you come down from that balcony?" he demanded. "I'm tired of standing down here, yelling at you."
"Learned how to ask proper, did you?" I retorted. But I was smiling.
I reached the bottom of the steps and ducked outside the doorway, into the open air and rain. Nathan's arms were around me, holding me tight. I wrapped mine around his neck and pressed my lips against his own, rumpling his wet hair.
"I'll let you meet my mum," I whispered to him. "I'll let you meet all that lot, even if they're awful —"
"I don't care," he whispered back. His voice was still fierce, even quiet. "We don't have to live with them, Kitty. Or with my family, either. We can go anywhere we want — do anything we want — and it doesn't matter what anybody else thinks."
He kissed me back. Sweeping me off my feet — literally — and into his arms, which were strong enough for a toff in a suit who ran his life from a mobile.
It was raining buckets now, but we were still kissing. I pressed my cheek against his for a breather as I held tight to him, and thought about the breathless, headlong rush our lives were about to enter, the chaos with his folks and mine. Then I saw the rest of Cliffs House watching us from the kitchen windows. Eight faces were locked on us standing like fools in the garden.
"I think we're being a bit too open now," I said, close to his ear. "Maybe we should stop for awhile."
"What? Why?" he said. But he realized what I was looking at over his shoulder. He turned around, and I could feel the jolt of surprise go through him for our audience, since he hadn't put me down yet.
Dinah opened the window. "Come out of the rain, you two, before you catch your deaths!"
I heard Nathan's voice a minute later, close to my ear. "You're right," Nathan answered me. "Let's go in." He lowered me down again. We took each others' hands as we walked together towards the kitchen door.
***
Julianne:
The sea was a gentler blanket today, turning its edges back in white foam, tucking itself against the crevices of stone far below along the rocky beach. I was at its edge, or as near as anybody could be, thanks to the carefully- arranged boulders at the top. From there, the sea air could reach me, along with the restless sound of its waves.
I tucked my hands in the pockets of my green pea jacket, and remembered the first time I saw this view. Me in this same coat, my hair 'tinged with fire' in the sunlight, as Matt put it, as I approached the sea off the beaten path — and met Matthew for the first time.
Maybe not the most romantic meeting on the planet, I knew, but it would always seem so to me. Just like this place would always be the most romantic spot on the planet in my eyes, too.
The last of our things had been packed up, or sent to Seattle, leaving Rosemoor's rooms bare except for the furniture. I was going to miss the old armchair shedding its stuffing and in need of new upholstery, and the threadbare rug and old sofa. Our glass door cupboards were empty of our mismatched collection of dishes, and the old iron bedstead supported only a mattress, without the beautiful quilt that someone had given us as a wedding present.
I had walked through those rooms one more time. The only time I had seen them empty before was when I rented the cottage myself...but that seemed an age ago, along with the briefly-painful episode in Matt's life connected to it. I closed my eyes, twisting the rings on my left hand, knowing there was a time when I narrowly missed the chance to wear them.
I felt Matt's arm around my shoulders now. "Are you ready?" he asked. "Everything else is in the car." Geoff's, not Matt's. Matt had sold his, rather than have it stored for months.
"I guess so." My hand slid around his own, wrapping his fingers in mine. We both stood there in silence, gazing at the moving waters. I closed my eyes and took one last deep breath. It would have to be enough to hold me for a few months, while I pursued a temporary life in my old home city. Where Matt and I
would make new friends, share new experiences, and retrace the paths that had brought me to this moment almost two years ago.
"Let's go," I whispered to Matt. Squeezing my hand, he withdrew his arm and led me up the pathway again, towards Cliffs House's garden. I glanced back one last time as I reached the crest of the garden walkway.
Goodbye for now, I thought. But I'll be back soon. That's a promise.
Julianne, Matthew, and all their friends will be back in Book 7! Learn more HERE
Special Excerpt from A Romance in Cornwall
I was searching for a good spot for a butterfly paperweight, a gift from Aimee, when my office door opened and Gemma's head popped inside. "Have you heard the rumors yet?" she asked.
One thing which hadn't changed — at least not that I could see — was Gemma's love for news, gossip, and all things rumored in Ceffylgwyn.
"Not of an event?" I made the idea sound terrible, even though it was how I made my living as an event planner. But the thought of a celebrity wedding or another celebrated baking show was the last thing I really wanted at the moment. With Nathan in Paris, I thought maybe the manor could enjoy a brief lull in spectacular or surprising events, at least until I felt more like my old self.
"No, nothing like that," said Gemma. "I'm talking about the celebrity sighting. Andy's mum's best friend's sister does for the Pendragon from time to time, you know, when she's not cleaning houses over in Truro; and she said she saw the names on the hotel register the other day and recognized one right away — a famous writer, no less. And you'll never guess who."
"Who?" I said. The Pendragon was a hotel not far from Falmouth, and it was known for now and then attracting a few special guests en route to Penzance. Since Gemma's celebrity-crazy days had dwindled in Pippa's absence, I imagined it must be someone extremely recognizable.